


Dad!  You Spanked Sammy!  You Bastard!

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinks, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-02
Updated: 2008-07-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam is all of seventeen years old, head strong, stubborn, ready to take on the world, and then he pushes his dad too far...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is my second (semi)serious Supernatural fic, and it's pre-series. And was inspired by and dedicated to thelonejuliet! I would also like to thank Lissa for looking over this and not dying from shock and squee or hitting me for waking her up at fuck-thirty in the morning again to read more of my porny shit as she calls it.

“Dad! You Spanked Sammy! You Bastard!”

By C.K. Blake

 

“Fuck you Dad!” Sam growled.

 

John Winchester couldn’t even remember what he and his youngest son were fighting about, but Sam had NEVER taken it this far before. “Dammit, Sammy, you might be a tall little bastard, but don’t think I can’t still take you over my knee!”

 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his chin up and narrowed his hazel eyes on his father. “I’d like to see you try it.”

 

John raised a single eyebrow and stared down his son, who had a good four inches on him. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice stiff and cold.

 

Sam swallowed thickly, worry seeping into his bones as it suddenly dawned on him that maybe he finally had gone too far for once. His gaze slipped to the door, praying that Dean would come home soon and somehow get him out of this mess, but the door didn’t so much as rattle. No matter how hard he hoped it would.

 

Sam took a step back as his father took a step toward him. He made a run for the door, but damn if his dad wasn’t a fast bastard. John caught him by the back of his jeans and then fisted his other hand in Sammy’s collar, hauled him across the motel room and sat down on one of the two double beds in the room. He manhandled Sam across his knees and pulled his arm back. Sam’s breath stuck in his throat and his eyes widened in anticipation, and then John’s hand came crashing down, a hard, stinging slap across Sam’s ass, and he was jolted forward and gasped.

 

John reared back for another and Sam swore, and then John pulled back again, his hand landing with a firm crack on Sam’s ass, and Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out as tears stung the back of his eyes. Christ, this was humiliating and hurt like hell. Damn his dad was heavy handed.

 

Sam was breathing heavily through his nose a few strikes later, and then his head snapped toward the door as a key rattled in the lock and suddenly Dean was in the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and gaping open mouthed at the spectacle of his father spanking his seventeen-year-old brother.

 

“Dad, what the hell? Sammy, Christ! What did you do?” Dean asked, stunned.

 

“Had enough yet, Samuel? Still think your old man can’t prove a point? Next time I tell you to clean a goddamned gun or sharpen a knife I don’t want any of your bullshit. It’s yes sir and you get out your whet stone or the gun oil,” John growled.

 

Sam grit his teeth and shook his head. “There’s more to life than hunting! I want to be normal! Fuck this life. Fuck hunting, and FUCK YOU!” he bit out between whacks.

 

John’s hand landed harder, and Dean was worried that either his father was going to have a heart attack or kill Sam. He stepped forward, but wasn’t sure how to fix this, because Sam’s words hurt. Normal. How could Sam want that and want him too? 

 

John was about to strike again when he stiffened and then looked down at Sam in shock, and Sam’s lip was bloody from biting down on it to keep from crying out. He then shoved Sam off his lap and stared down at his youngest son in horror, noting the bulge in the boy’s pants and the look of defiance in his hard, hazel eyes. Sam spit blood onto the floor, his glare never wavering.

 

“I’ll never have normal, Dad. I’ll never have it because of you, and Dean will never have it. We’re your kids, not your goddamned soldiers! Hell, do you even know what you’ve… Christ, I can’t… Dean…”

 

“Sam…” Dean’s voice came out barely above a whisper as he realized what Sam had been about to confess. 

 

Dean spared his father a glance before he went to his brother, knelt down and pushed back Sam’s too long hair, and brushed the tears from his cheeks. Sam batted his hands aside, and then glared at his father. “You don’t know what you’ve done to us, Dad! You’ll never fucking know! You’re gone half the time and you’re never even around to see. Really see!” Sam snarled.

 

“Sam, please,” Dean pleaded. “Shut the hell up!”

 

“No, Dean,” John said, his breathing ragged as he looked at his boys, the wheels working in his head as his hazel green eyes narrowed on his youngest. “I think it’s time I hear Sammy out on this. Just what in the hell have I done?”

 

“This,” Sam growled, and before Dean really knew what was happening Sam’s fists were curled in his shirt, dragging him forward, and then Sam’s mouth was on his and the rest of the world faded in the background as Sam’s tongue slipped past his lips, and he was responding to the kiss, because he could never refuse Sam anything. 

 

When Sam broke the kiss, Dean slowly came back to himself, realized that his hands was tangled in his younger brother’s hair and his Dad was staring at them in horror, because Sammy had just kissed him, just threw it in their father’s face that they did more than sleep together in the same bed. 

 

Dean swallowed thickly as he saw the disappointment, anger, pain, and disgust in his father’s eyes and then he was being hauled up and away from Sam by their father. Once John had him on his feet he shook Dean and glared at him. 

 

“How long has this been going on, Dean? How fucking long have you…with Sam?” 

 

Dean’s eyes were wide; he didn’t know what to say or how to deal with this. He’d never wanted his father to know. He knew John wouldn’t take it well, that it was morally wrong, but he was powerless against Sam, always had been, always would be, because ever since that first time three months ago, Dean was a goner. He’d lost what little bit of his heart that he had left to his baby brother.

 

“Let him go, Dad. He’s not the one you should be pissed at! I’m the one that started it. It was after we took down the werewolf. Dean got hurt because of me and you went on ahead to scout out the next job. The wounds got infected, and things were said while he was delirious. Once the infection cleared up I came back with coffee, and he was in the shower, and I joined him. It wasn’t easy working him up to it Dad. He was against it at first, but I got on my knees and begged real nice for him. Told him what I wanted, what I’d wanted for a long time. I broke him down, and he’s more mine than he’ll ever be yours,” Sam said, his voice low, his tone possessive beyond his seventeen years, and John dropped Dean who swayed back on his feet.

 

“Sam, what the hell! You’re brothers, you can’t… It’s wrong. It’s sick and twisted, and against everything morally decent in this world. Against everything we fight for!” John replied, his tone stiff, and his eyes begging for it not to be true.

 

“No. It’s not. Not if I love him,” Sam said, his voice firm with conviction.

 

John covered his mouth with his hand and felt sick and weary down to his bones as he stumbled out of the room. He had to get away, away from his boys and their unnatural relationship, away from Sam. He’d spanked Sam to prove a point, that he was still his father and capable of punishing him for fucking up. Still he’d shoved Sam away when he’d felt his son grow hard against his thigh, and then to learn about Dean and Sammy. His boys. Christ his boys, and Sam dared to call it love.

 

As the door slammed behind their father Sam slowly got to his feet and went to Dean. Dean’s gaze was locked on the floor, tears trailing from the corner of his eyes, and he refused to lift his head.

 

Sam let out a sigh, and lifted Dean’s chin to get him to look at him, meet his gaze. He smiled softly and pressed his lips against Dean’s, but Dean jerked back. Sam reared as though he’d been slapped.

 

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam snapped.

 

Dean blinked, and slowly let out the breath he’d been holding since the door had slammed shut behind their father. “You told him, Sammy. How could you do that? We agreed that he would never know and you fucking told him! Why?”

 

Sam’s tongue ran across his lips. “Because it’s time he faces the truth. I love you, Dean, and he’s part of what got us to this point, and I’m not ashamed of that. I’ll never be ashamed of us. I’ll never stop telling him that he’s constantly dragging you into dangerous situations that will likely get you killed. We could have a better life than this, Dean! Is this it for you, all you wanna do for the rest of your life?”

 

“It’s all I know Sammy. All I’m good at. That and takin’ care of you. What’s wrong with killin’ evil sonsabitches and helping people?”

 

“What’s wrong with wanting to live your own life, with someone you love, and doing something you love?” Sam countered.

 

“That’s what I’m doin’ Sam. I’ve got you and Dad and we make a difference. You have to believe that.”

 

Sam nodded, forced the small smile on his face. He’d mention the acceptance letter to Stanford later, but for now he had Dean, and his eighteenth birthday and leaving for Stanford were months away. “Yeah man, but there’s still more, and it’s okay to want it, Dean.”

 

Dean ran a hand through Sam’s hair and leaned forward, unable to resist the want in his brother’s eyes, and their lips met, and it was right. Fuck everyone and every thing else. His hands found their way to Sam’s ass and he gave the cheeks a squeeze and Sam arched up and hissed. Damn. His dad had spanked Sammy, the bastard. Still, Sam was seventeen years old and got spanked by their old man. He would never live that down, Dean would see to that.

 

When he pulled back from the kiss a smirk played with his mouth and Sam shook his head in defeat, knowing exactly what Dean had on his mind.

 

End.


End file.
